


And You're Watching Disney Channel

by reptilianraven



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AKA The Tangled AU Nobody Asked For, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, it started out with 1k how did we end up like this, it was only 1k it was only 1k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilianraven/pseuds/reptilianraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course he isn't in a normal story. Of course Stiles doesn't dream like a normal person. Of fucking course Stiles had to dream up a Disney (?) induced fairytale nightmare where Derek is the prince (?) and Stiles is the princess (?) and in the face of this realization, Derek would have honestly preferred the zombie apocalypse dream.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>A spell traps Stiles in his brain and they have to go in and get him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You're Watching Disney Channel

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when i rewatch tangled then inception then 3a consecutively with no stopping. i also later realized that this seems very similar to the djinn episode in supernatural but that had nothing to do with this whoops
> 
> set after 3a but none of what is gonne happen in 3b occurs

_Once upon a time, there was a boy, a boy with a spark. A boy named—_

His breath is loud in his ears. Every step he takes is met with the loud crunch of twigs and dead leaves. He hears arrows flying past him, missing him by inches, as fast jets of air against his ears. He picks up his pace and runs faster because this isn’t a fair race. Even with his wolf speeds, he won’t be able to keep the distance between him and a group of hunters mounted on horses for much longer. He hears running water somewhere, and not just any kind of running water, but a waterfall, and right now he’s relying more on instincts and less on logic so he just follows the sound in hopes of some form of escape. 

One sharp turn and a tunnel later, he finds himself looking at a picturesque tower next to a waterfall seemingly hidden from the rest of the forest. The hunters might not find him here but they’re still close behind. He pulls out two arrows from where they were impaled in his back and—

_Before the boy was born, his mother was deathly ill, and they were sure that they were going to lose him too. In desperation, the king ordered his men to look for something out of a legend, a powerful tree called the Nemeton, which could cure them both. They searched high and low and when they found it they cut it down but it was too late—_

He drives the arrow into the cobblestone of the tower and he starts climbing. Blood trickles down his back and his legs start to burn one minute in and well, he’s had better days but he keeps on going. He sees the ledge of the window close in his sight and he pushes himself just for a bit longer—

_The Nemeton was able to save the child but it was too late for the queen. The king was devastated, but he was also relieved that his son was healthy and showed no signs of ill effects to the cure. The king was almost able to fight off his grief with the help of his son until one day, his child disappeared._

He grabs a hold of the ledge and pulls himself up and in with the last of his energy, falling onto the floor in a graceless and bleeding pile of exhaustion. The room around him is dark and he can’t see a thing, it doesn’t seem uninhabited because somebody’s scent is still here but he figures whoever lives here can’t be more of a threat than angry hunters with crossbows and swords.

He stands and assesses the damage, which isn’t much, just a few flesh wounds and one arrow that went straight through the side of his abdomen. He should probably pull that out but he can do that later. He needs a breather. He’s safe. He’s not dead. It’s all good.

The last thing he was expecting then was to be smacked upside the head.

His world goes black.

_The kingdom mourned for the loss of their queen and their prince. Every year on his birthday and her death anniversary, they would set out lanterns, in hopes of the queen seeing it from heaven, and the prince seeing it from where ever he may be…_

\---

He and Cora had traveled for a year. One whole year of just driving and seeing the world and not having to worry about a goddamn thing. It was great, it was fucking fantastic, he felt free for the first time in a long time but he knew that he couldn’t keep it up, because somehow, Derek will always come back to Beacon Hills. He finds it odd that he still feels connected to the place, (and Cora knows that that’s absolute bullshit, she knows it’s just his way of saying that he misses them) so after a year they go back.

They decided to drop by Scott’s place first and they were expecting hugs and all that mushy stuff, but instead, Isaac answers the door looking panicked and he takes one look at Derek before he fucking _socks him in the face_.

“Sorry you have bad timing, or good timing? I don’t know, we have to get to Deaton’s. You’ve got a car, let's use that, that’s faster that’s good.” Isaac says and Derek is too dazed to argue or even ask why.

They’re on the road when Cora asks, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Scott didn’t give me any details but there’s something wrong with Stiles.” 

Derek’s grip on the wheel tightens and he drives just that little bit faster.

\---

When they left, Derek wasn’t really thinking as much as he knows he should have.

All he was thinking was that he felt suffocated and he needed to get out and Cora agreed to leaving so they packed up what little belongings they had in the first place and they left. In hindsight, he realizes that it was a pretty dick move of him to not even say goodbye but he wanted to leave as fast as possible so he figured giving Scott a heads up was enough.

Once he was on the road and his head was a bit clearer, he figures that he should have at least told Stiles, because there is no doubt in his head that Stiles is probably really pissed. That’s his fault, he knows that. Because he and Stiles are actually pretty good friends and have been pretty good friends ever since that one night with the paper stars and it doesn’t help that the last time he saw Stiles was when Stiles slapped him awake back in the hospital. So yeah, Stiles is probably pissed.

Derek just steps on the gas and keeps on driving.

\---

When they get there, Scott is pacing, Lydia is reading, Allison is helping Deaton with a jar of whatever-the-fuck and Stiles is lying motionless on a metal table with his heartbeat barely audible.

“What the hell happened?” Derek asks and four heads snap up to his direction.

“You’re back,” Scott says in some sort of mixture of anger and relief.

“The both of you have terrible timing,” Lydia tells them as she goes back to reading something that looks awfully old and important and Latin.

Allison, god bless her, actually gives them an answer. “Welcome back, Stiles had a run in with a witch then there was a spell.”

“Trapping spell,” Deaton adds, “The spell traps the victim in their own brain until they lose themselves and their identity and eventually die. It’s good to see you, Derek.”

“Well is there a cure? Why isn’t anybody helping him?” He snarls. 

“Hey asshole, we’re trying.” Lydia snaps as Allison explains, “She’s trying to translate the passage for another cure.”

“What do you guys mean by ‘another’ cure?” Cora asks.

“The first one is inadvisable,” Deaton says without actually revealing any information at all.

“Which is?”

Deaton sighs and that probably means he’s explained this several times before. “Stiles is trapped in his mind. The easiest way to get him out would be to send somebody in, but his mind won’t let just anybody inside.”

“Deaton,” Scott all but screams, “You told me that I could go in, you said his brain would accept me. So just let me go in and save him.”

Deaton levels a glare to Scott who looks like he may just start having a conniption, “You go in there alone and you’d lose yourself too.”

“Why can’t the rest of you go in with him?” Cora says and Derek realizes that she took over talking for him because right now he’s too occupied looking at Stiles who just looks so _still_ and nothing like the talkative, hyperactive kid he remembers.

“We’ve tried,” Isaac says as he brandishes a bottle filled with a clear liquid as if that explains everything, “So far, he’s only accepted Scott.”

Lydia looks up from her book and starts elaborating, “Letting somebody else in your mind requires an insane amount of trust and familiarity.”

The moment she says that, everybody looks up at him as if they suddenly remembered something.

Isaac steps forward and splashes the liquid onto his hand and they all proceed to stare at his hand like it’s the most interesting thing to have graced their vision.

“What was that?” He asks.

“It means you can go in,” Scott says as everybody else shows them their own hand. Derek sees the faint red skin of a burn and he sees that his and Scott’s hands are burn free. 

\---

Derek wakes up to the wonderful sensation of a terrible headache accompanied with the fact that he is tied to a chair, but at least he isn’t dead so he can still work with this.

He’s still in the tower and it’s still dark, but this time he can smell somebody inside with him, they smell like graphite and fear and excitement and something else, something warm and alive and not quite human. 

He gets to work at the ropes tying him to the chair by shifting into the wolf and trying to break free, but it doesn’t budge. The ropes seem stronger and he seems weaker and he can’t break through them.

“Whoa, calm down wolfy,” Somebody says and he glowers in the general direction of the voice. “There’s no getting out of those babies. Wolfsbane infused ropes. You’d just tire yourself out.”

Whoever is talking to him is sticking to the safety of the shadows, so he just lets his fangs grow and his eyes flash and he growls. He isn’t going to lie, the smell of fear that suddenly emanates from the dark is something he relishes. 

“Let me go,” He says.

“Let you go? _You_ were the one trespassing into private property,” Mystery boy says and for some reason, Derek really feels like that’s his line. “Judging by the blood seeping out from your, well, generally your everywhere, you’re on the run from what, hunters? That means that right now, I’m generously housing your fugitive ass in my house so you play by my rules.”

He hears footsteps and his mystery captor emerges from the dark and he doesn’t know what he was expecting but it wasn’t some barefoot kid who doesn’t look a day over sixteen holding a wooden bat as some sort of weapon. 

He approaches Derek with small, calculated steps and careful look in his eyes.

“Wow,” He draws out, “You look really angry.”

“You bashed me in the head and tied me to a chair.” 

“You broke into my room!”

“I was being chased.”

“You’re a werewolf you should know how to handle that without breaking into the homes of the innocent,” He gestures to himself and Derek rolls his eyes. 

He makes a face, “This is terrible, you’re terrible. This isn’t how I imagined my first meeting with an outsider going, like, statistically, shouldn’t there be more humans than of you guys? What are the chances of me meeting a werewolf first right? To be honest I was pretty skeptical about werewolves, I thought Ms. Blake was bullshitting me with some fiction books but tadaa you’re here.” He says in one breath whilst gesticulating wildly.

Derek narrows his eyes.

“Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous and your face is scary,” He winces, “No offense?”

“None taken,” Derek says, “I will happily forget about all of this if you let me go, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He smiles wildly and says “Nope, I need you.”

“And I can rip your throat out with my teeth.” He threatens but the kid doesn’t even give him a second glance. Instead he runs across the room and he pulls a rope which seems to be attached to a whole system of elaborate pulleys which opens a window and light floods the room. 

The walls are covered in writing and drawings, without a single blank space. Some of the writing overlapped over itself over and over again until it is undecipherable and it all looks really creepy. The kid hops onto what looks like a fire place and pulls back a curtain to reveal a drawing of lanterns, not just any lanterns, but the lanterns they set out for the queen and the lost prince. 

“Tomorrow is my birthday,” He states. “I’m turning eighteen and I want to see the lights.”

“The lanterns?”

“Yep, and you’re going to take me to see them,” 

“And why will I be doing this?” Derek inquires.

“Because I have an overprotective adoptive mother who thinks I can’t protect myself—even though I’m like totally capable of exactly that, like look I managed to one handedly take down a werewolf—but it really wouldn’t hurt to have some extra protection.” 

“I meant, what am I getting out of this?” 

“Your freedom and my eternal gratitude,” He bows as if he’s a blessing to the world.

“Yeah,” Derek puts on his brightest smile, “That’s not going to cut it.”

“Alright then,” The boy hops off the ledge and closes the window with another pulley, drowning the room back into darkness. “I was always curious on how long werewolves could survive without food or water,” He says darkly, “Like does it take longer than humans? They never addressed it in any of the books, I guess now I’ll finally find out.” He starts making his way out of the room and Derek can tell it’s a bluff but he really shouldn’t take any chances.

“Fine,” He bites out.

The lights are back in a second and the kid is in front of him in a flash. 

“Knew I could persuade you,” He grins.

Minutes later he’s free from his bounds and stretching his arms out. He realizes that the arrow through his side is gone and he gives a quick mental “Thanks” to the kid because there’s no way he’s saying it out loud. Derek figures he can at least accompany him out to town and ditch him quick and easy afterwards so this isn’t really a loss.

“Alright Wolfy,” He says. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Do you have a name then?” 

He sighs and he figures that he might as well, “Derek.”

The kid extends his arm out for a handshake and says “Stiles.”

Stiles. That’s familiar. That’s very familiar. He knows him. From somewhere. Where? He feels like he should remember something. There should be something he should be doing. It feels familiar and important but—

“What kind of name is Stiles?”

\---

He and Scott are sitting down on the floor whilst Cora, Allison, and Isaac help out Deaton with whatever mind connecting potion they’re conjuring up. Lydia sits close by, still reading, just in case they need a backup plan.

“What’s the plan?” Derek asks the room at large.

Deaton turns to them, “The both of you will drink this potion when we’re finished making it, and it will connect the both of you into Stiles’ brain.”

“Wait, what exactly is waiting for us when we get in? Like what is his brain gonna look like?” Scott says.

“Anything,” He says, “You could see his memories, his thoughts, his dreams. Dreams would be the most likely, his brain would have to accommodate two intruders so he could legitimately think up of an entire universe to house the two of you in.”

Scott groans, “Knowing Stiles, he probably made some sort of zombie apocalypse scenario.”

That doesn’t sound pleasant.

Deaton continues, “When the two of you get in, whatever story you encounter is going to act like white blood cells attacking a virus,” He gestures to the two of you. “The story is going to try and make you feel normal. It will try to make you feel like it is real and that it isn’t dream. It will try to make you forget and lose yourselves, and in turn, die. That’s why going in alone is suicide, there would be nothing there to help you remember, but you two have each other as a reminder.”

“So we go in, we make sure to remember that it isn’t our reality, we find each other, then we find Stiles and make _him_ remember.” Derek says.

“Essentially, yes,” Deaton nods. “You also have to do this as fast as you can. The longer you take, the faster Stiles’ mind will deteriorate.”

“Finish the job before the dream collapses,” Scott whispers next to him. “Inception much.”

“To get him to remember is to get him to trust you,” Lydia pipes up from where she is seated. “The book says that the story you’re put in might give you a clean slate so he might not recognize either of you.”

“You’ll have to gain his trust all over again if you want him to remember.” Deaton points out.

“Knowing you two,” Lydia says, smirking slightly, “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

\---

The texts come in two days after they leave when they’re in a diner somewhere north. Cora laughs softly and says “Took him long enough,” when Derek checks his phone.

_Stiles_   
_-OH MY GOD YOU FUCKING ASS YOU JUST LEFT YOU PIECE OF SHIT_

_Stiles_   
_-dude SERIOUSLY???? not even a goodbye??????_

_Stiles_   
_-i went over to your place only to see everything slightly more barren than it usually is and Scott was like “Derek left” what tHE SHIT??????_

_Stiles_   
_-WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF_

_To Stiles_   
_-I’m sorry._

The reply comes an hour later.

_Stiles_   
_-gdi you’re not getting off the hook that easy dickhead don’t you DARE think that we’re going to excommunicate you just because you left_

_Stiles_   
_-IF YOU EVEN TRY TO NOT REPLY TO ME OR ANY OF US I WILL HAVE DANNY TRACK DOWN YOUR LOCATION USING YOUR PHONE DON’T TEST ME_

_To Stiles_   
_-Wouldn’t dream of it._

\---

Derek has descended one fourth of the tower with his arrows in hand, whilst Stiles apparently went in to grab more ropes.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never left this tower for eighteen years.” He yells and Stiles’ head pops out of the window.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of kid gets cooped up in a tower for that long?” 

Stiles laughs, “I guess you could say I’m special.” His head disappears back into the tower.

By the time he’s halfway down he yells again, “Stiles are you coming down or no—“

A rope whizzes down and shortly thereafter, Stiles is too. He speeds down with the help of another pulley and he ends up at the bottom before Derek.

He hops down onto the ground only to see Stiles lying on the grass on his back looking like today is the happiest day of his life.

“The grass is cold,” He says as his hands distractedly stroke the aforementioned grass. “Oh god it’s so great,” he rolls over onto his front and he fucking _moans_.

Derek starts reevaluating his choices.

Stiles sits up quickly and starts partaking in every piece of nature visible. The flowers, the water, the rocks, even a bee. He realizes that this kid literally spent his entire life cooped up and mostly alone. He remembers all the writing and the drawings and he figures that he would have gone insane in Stiles’ place.

“Stiles,” Derek calls him over from the bird he was staring at, “You want to leave any time soon?”

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles and god, he’s like a ray of sunshine personified. “Yeah let’s go, let’s fucking go, oh god I am so pumped.”

Derek leads the way back out through the tunnel into the woods and he thought Stiles would be in silent awe with everything around him and he was 50% correct. Awe, yes. Silent, no. Because the kid does not shut up.

“Okay so I’m really curious,” He says and Derek hasn’t even known him for a day and he knows that that’s bad opening line. “The stuff in the books, is that true about you guys? The full moon and the wolf senses? Are you in a pack? Are you an alpha or a beta? The book never said anything about blue eyes like yours. Can you turn full wolf? Oh god do you ever get overwhelmed by all the smells? Spring must be hell for you guys I mean all the pollen am I right?” And he keeps on talking, practically vibrating with energy. It’s endearing, Derek thinks, and if he’s smiling, he has head turned away so Stiles wouldn’t be able to see it anyways.

But then he hears something.

“Quiet,” He tells Stiles but he doesn’t stop so Derek just clamps his hand over his mouth and he crouches the both of them down, this elicits an outraged noise out of Stiles. “Stop it, I hear something,” he explains but Stiles just licks his hand and Derek withdraws with an “Ugh.”

“What is it?” He whispers and Derek can here the snapping of twigs and the smell of adrenalin and metal.

“Hunters,” He says. 

“Shit,” Stiles says and that sums everything up neatly.

A big part of Derek—the part that wants to survive—wants to bolt and just leave Stiles here. After all, Stiles is human so they wouldn’t hurt him. But he remembers that little feeling of warmth that Stiles seems to have and it isn’t normal.

Then he imagines Stiles’ face of betrayal if he leaves him and that seals the deal.

Derek can’t leave this kid here to die.

He can hear Stiles’ heartbeat loud in his ears. It’s fast and erratic and a little bit excited for that bit of adventure he never had.

He grabs Stiles’ hand and says “On the count of three, we run.”

\---

He and Scott are handed a cups containing some sort of lemon ginger smelling thing when Scott says, “Hey man, if we don’t wake up, uh, welcome back I guess? This probably isn’t what you wanted to come back to but, you’re here, and that’s great.”

He lets himself smile, just for a bit, “Thanks, we’ll be waking up though. Just remember.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah, not our reality. Hey, what if Stiles dreamed up of a world like this one, but everybody is somehow alive and happy? It seems like something he would do.”

“Let’s hope not,” He sighs. “If he did, we wouldn’t want to remember.”

“Yeah that’s true.” Scott stares at the cup. “Well, cheers.”

They drink.

\---

He and Stiles saw each other on a regular enough basis. The supernatural always gave them a reason to convene but he never really saw him outside of that, save for the one night with the paper stars.

But the summer before the alpha pack hit, things were pretty slow. And it came as a bit of an epiphany to Derek when he realized that, now that he doesn’t really have a reason to go see Stiles, he really wants an excuse to go see Stiles. 

Isaac thought that this was ridiculous and that probably had something to do with how he made a very loud and offhand comment on how Stiles had a really bad case of the flu. 

Half an hour later he’s through Stiles’ bedroom window.

“Nooooooooo,” Stiles groans out from his blanket cocoon when Derek steps inside. “Go away, I’m all pathogens and grossness.”

“I made you soup,” Derek says and he places a thermos filled with soup on Stiles’ desk.

“Did you really?” The blanket cocoon stirs and Stiles wiggles his head out. “You really did oh my god, I love you.”

Derek’s step wavers a bit, “Well, alright, I’m going to go now so—”

“Did you really just come here to drop off soup?” Stiles says with just the tiniest ounce of disappointment (and amusement) as he sheds off his blankets. 

“Uh, yeah?” He tells him with his foot already out of the window, “I don’t really have a reason to stay.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at this, “You don’t need a reason,” He mutters. “We’re kinda friends so that gives you the license to bother me any time.”

Derek’s foot stills before he finally reins it back into the room. Stiles sees this and he instantly perks up as much as a sick person possibly could. 

“You’re staying?” Stiles asks and Derek figures he should look really nonchalant about his decision so he gives a mostly positive shrug. Stiles smiles, “Sweet.”

So they both go down to the kitchen and Stiles drinks his soup whilst only looking slightly miserable. They talk about normal things, things that have nothing to do with werewolves or anything remotely supernatural. They talk about how Stiles is letting his hair grow out, how Scott is studying really hard and how he used the word ‘obdurate’ in a sentence and it totally made sense, how citrus fruits could be used as an alternative for charging phones.

After that, he finds it really silly that he thought he needed a reason to go see Stiles. But then he asked himself why he was so bothered with the whole matter in the first place. The answer was something he didn’t want to think about, so he didn’t. He pushed it back and chalked it up to Stiles just being good company. 

It goes without saying that they hung out a lot that summer.

\---

The moment they ran was the moment arrows were being shot at them like no tomorrow. He pulls Stiles along and he wasn’t slow, per say, but he definitely wasn’t fast enough. So he gives up with dragging him through the forest and he just pick him up like a sack of potatoes and he does the running for the both of them. Stiles would probably protest if they weren’t so busy being shot at so he saves his voice for the occasional panicked screams of “Oh fuck oh fuck! They’re getting closer, Derek!”

With all the running and dodging, Derek didn’t really have much time to do any thinking, and maybe that might explain how they ended up in a small enclosed rock prison which is quickly filling up with water.

“One day I go out,” Stiles gasps out as he leans against the rocks, staring at the rising water which is already at hip level. “One fucking day and I’m going to die.”

Derek dives down to try and find an exit but he just comes back up, “It’s too dark I can’t find an exit I’m—”

“Hey,” Stiles grabs his face, “I was joking, it’s not your fault, it’s okay. Well no it’s not we’re gonna drown and die and that sucks but that’s nobody’s fault alright?” He tells him and it’s odd because Stiles is the one freaking out more yet Derek is the on getting the ‘calm down’ talk. Stiles is scared but for some reason he’s caring less about himself and more about some stranger he just met.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Stiles just smiles.

“It’s fine,” He says and Derek wants to tell him that he knows he’s lying but the words don’t come out, instead he just lets Stiles gently squeeze his face before he lets go. “It isn’t like one of us can magically conjure up some light.” He jokes then his eyes widen in some sort of realization.

“Shit,” he says and Derek was about to ask him why but then that unnatural warmth he feels from Stiles just _blazes_ and turns into a full on fire.

Then he starts talking.

“Derek don’t say anything, just, I can do this. I am the spark, be the spark, be the spark, be the fucking spark,” He closes his eyes. “Light, I believe there will be light, there will be light, there will be some goddamn light.”

The water rises up above the both of their heads and the last thing Derek hears is “I believe.”

Then of course light floods every corner of their rock prison.

 

 

 

They make it out.

 

 

 

They surface from a river somewhere, gasping for air and clawing for dry ground.

“We’re alive!” Stiles says about the same time Derek mumbles, “You’re magic?” 

Stiles climbs out and mumbles something about “fucking priorities man.”

Derek manages to get a fire started in a clearing and they try to warm themselves up whilst Derek tries his best not to bring up the fucking magic. Stiles is clearly enjoying his restraint because he leans back against a tree with a smirk on his face.

“Magic,” He says, wiggling his fingers for effect.

“You’re serious,” Derek groans because this is his life.

“Hey you’re a werewolf, I’m marginally less weird than you are.”

“Magic is fairytale bullshit,” He tells Stiles as he stands and makes his way to Derek’s side.

“Yeah and werewolves are horror stories parents tell their kids at night,” He says as he looks at something on Derek’s head. “You have a bit of a gash on your head.” He reaches up and brushes his fingers against it and Derek grimaces slightly and swats Stiles’ hand away. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t it healing?”

“Fuck,” He says. “One of the arrowheads must have been laced with Wolfsbane.”

“That’s bad but I can fix it,” Stiles says quickly and Derek feels that spark igniting all over again. He knows Stiles doesn’t mean any harm but he instinctively leans away. “Hey don’t worry I’m like super good at healing and shit I swear, trust me.” He says as he inches up to his knees and lays one of his hands onto the wound on Derek’s head.

Derek looks up and sees Stiles with his eyes closed and he can feel the flames of energy from him.

“I believe,” He says softly against his head, “Your skin is going to heal and the Wolfsbane will be out of your system because you’re a great guy who doesn’t need that kind of crap.”

Derek barks out a quiet laugh and Stiles sits down. He brings his hand up to his head to find the wound completely gone and not an ounce of Wolfsbane in his bloodstream. 

“Thanks,” He says. “How does that even work? Do you really have to talk?”

Stiles grins and sits back, “Uh, It’s complicated, the magic is kinda dependent on belief so there’s a lot of that, and no? I could do it mentally but I can’t concentrate easily so the talking helps, the whole magic thing is my weird life. It’s a long story.”

“Well,” Derek starts, “I’d love to hear it.” 

“Oh my god,” Stiles stifles a giggle. “You had to say the most cliché comeback for the phrase ‘it’s a long story’ you _nerd,_ ” Derek raises his eyebrows and his giggle just becomes a full on laugh. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you, calm your eyebrows.”

“Alright so once upon a time,” Derek snorts and Stiles punches him in the arm. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy with a spark of magic in him and people were apparently fucking terrified at the idea of a kid who couldn’t control this dangerous thing,” He says and Derek notices that Stiles can’t have possibly remembered this, he notices that somebody told him that this was his story. “So nobody wanted him until one day somebody finally took him in, a druid emissary named Jennifer Blake. Ms. Blake taught him how to control his energy and in turn he gave her some of his spark because apparently he had a lot of it.” He sighs. “Thing is, Blake thought that the outside world would exploit his abilities so she kept him in a tower for eighteen years and it sucked a lot.”

He leans on Derek’s shoulder and smiles, “Until one day, the big bad wolf broke into his room.”

Derek smiles and he makes sure to turn away so that Stiles doesn’t see, “You’re not letting that go huh?”

“Nope,” He declares. “Now it’s your turn for story time.”

“For what now?”

“I gave you my life story so now you have to give yours so we’re fair.” Stiles says with a glint in his eyes.

He could easily say no, Stiles would accept it, but fucking hell, pleasing this kid seems like the best thing in the world right now.

“Pretty boring compared to you,” He points out but Stiles just gives him puppy eyes and he sighs. “It’s a short sad sob story about a kid who trusted the wrong person and got his family burned down by hunters and he’s been on the run ever since.” He says quickly because he’s never told anybody before

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says and he just sounds so sincere and real and Derek can’t remember the last time since he’s seen that.

“It’s nothing,” He says and he needs some breathing space because Stiles is really close to him right now, so he conveniently realizes that it’s getting dark and their fire is going out. He stands and brushes himself off, “I’ll go get some more, um, wood.”

Stiles looks unimpressed and says, “I could just magic the fire to last all night.”

“Save your energy,” He says as he stalks into the woods for more wood.

He wastes a good few minutes sulking around the woods whilst halfheartedly looking for actual firewood. By the time he actually has a good bunch of dry branches, he turns goes back to the clearing but he stops in his steps because he hears a conversation.

Two voices. One is Stiles and the other is a woman.

“Stiles,” The woman says, “I’ve been worried sick, I thought you were gone for good.” And he zones out because fuck, that voice crawls up his spine like nails on a chalkboard. It just sets off all the alarms in his head because it sounds dangerous and wrong and he thinks he should remember something. He’s forgotten something and he can’t tell what it is.

“I think he likes me,” Stiles says and that’s what brings him back to the present because _what did he just say?_. “Even just a little bit.”

The woman laughs and he just wants to run away from her voice, “Do you really think that? Have you gotten that naïve? He’s a werewolf, Stiles, a monster. They can’t care or love. He’s probably just using you as a human shield against the hunters, next thing you know it he’s ditched you.” 

“Blake, you’re wrong and I know it.” He says and there isn’t a discrepancy in his pulse because he actually believes it. “You don’t know him.”

“Stiles,” She tsks, “You can believe that all you want but magic isn’t going to change him because he’s going to hurt you somehow, monsters always find a way to do that.” And with that Derek hears her footsteps as she leaves, getting softer and softer.

Derek stays back for a bit longer and he _knows_ that he should remember something because whatever it is, it feels very important. He can’t think about that though. He goes back to the clearing where Stiles is seated against a tree, smiling, pretending like nothing happened. He can’t think about whatever he is supposed to remember because the only thing on his mind is what the woman, Blake, said. He lies down and he starts drifting off and he thinks that he can prove her wrong.

He can prove that he cares.

\---

The one night with the paper stars goes a little something like this.

It happens a week after the final kanima showdown, a little bit after everybody has calmed down a bit. Derek finds himself on the way to Stiles’ house to check on him because after everything that has happened, he really wanted to make sure that everybody was alright. So Stiles was his last stop, the plan was to pop in, verify that Stiles is still relatively functional, then leave.

But when he enters Stiles’ room, he realizes that his plan didn’t account for the possibility of Stiles being on the floor surrounded by strips of colored paper with Stiles emanating the aura of someone who feels like shit.

“Yoooooooo,” Stiles draws out from the floor, absently folding a strip of blue paper.

“Stiles,” Derek greets before curiosity gets the best of him, “What are you doing?”

Stiles sits up and puts his finished ball of paper into a jar close by, “How rude of you, you come into my room and you question my actions. Is there no sense of etiquette at all in that head of yours?”

Derek looks at the jar which is halfway filled with assorted pieces of crumpled colored paper, “Are those supposed to be paper stars?”

Stiles grimaces, “Shut up, it’s the thought that counts. And the folding. Plus it’s therapeutic.” He grabs another blue strip of paper. “What are you doing here anyways? Or is it your new hobby to appear unannounced in the rooms of the underage?”

“I came to check on you,” Derek says and sits on Stiles’ bed as he notices the faint ghost of a bruise still on Stiles’ cheek. 

“Wow, didn’t think you cared.” He says in a joking tone but there’s enough bitterness in there to make Derek want to wince. 

“Where’d you get that bruise?” Derek asks.

“Huh?” Stiles cranes his head to look at him, “Oh, I uh, fell, on my face.” He says and it’s a terrible lie really, it doesn’t take a werewolf to see that, but there is a silent ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ vibe from the line that stops Derek from pressing the issue. “You know how it is, being human and not having supernatural healing abilities.”

“Watch where you’re walking next time,” Derek says and Stiles lets out a soft sigh of relief.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” He says. “Hey, since you’re here and you’re not doing anything useful, could you cut my some green paper? My jar is looking overwhelmingly blue.”

Derek considers saying no and just leaving (because that was the plan) but the shocking thing is that, he doesn’t really want to, so he takes a sheet of green paper from the floor and he starts cutting.

“So how goes it with you?” Stiles asks as he starts folding a green strip.

“Nothing much,” Derek stops cutting and he gets a green strip for himself and he starts folding too. “I’m still worried about Boyd and Erica, still no leads.”

“That sucks man,” Stiles says. “I’m just here trying to fill this jar.”

Derek thinks that there’s something off about how he’s sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up, moping alone whilst folding crappy paper stars, and Derek knows that he probably can’t make him feel any better about whatever it is but he figures that this is the least he could do.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” 

Stiles stops folding and he puts the half rolled strip of paper down.

“I’m not going to answer that question,” He says. “But, thanks. I really appreciate you asking.”

Derek leans forward to shoot his finished paper star into the jar and he sees that Stiles has a small smile on his face. 

“No problem,” He stands up and goes out through the window.

From anybody else’s perspective, this night doesn’t really look like anything special. And they’re probably right. But Derek felt as if there was something there, just a faint promise of a beginning of something else. Maybe it was friendship. Maybe it was trust. Maybe it was nothing at all but Derek is sentimental so he takes note of the night and he doesn’t forget it.

It’s dumb, he knows. But that doesn’t stop him from thinking that something could be there.

\---

This time he wakes up with a face full of angry horse because mornings are no longer sacred. Needless to say, he wakes up really fast. 

He then spends the next two minutes being chased by the horse up a tree and Derek isn’t going to kill the thing. Not even after he realizes that this horse has scent of one of the hunters all over him. The horse menacingly circles the trunk of the tree, making aggressive noises and being generally angry in every way. 

Stiles uses this time to wake up and he surveys the scene before with the expected confusion of somebody who has just woken up. “Is that a horse?”

“No, it’s a piece of lettuce.” He rolls his eyes.

Stiles blinks a few times and smirks, “Why are you up in a tree?”

“Because this horse hates me like the rest of the world does.”

“God you aren't a morning person, but worry not for I’m coming to rescue you,” Stiles says as he gets up and stretches, making his way to the horse which doesn’t seem to care about anything that isn’t Derek.

“Hey there little guy,” Stiles says to the horse which is in no way ‘little’. “You totally chased my friend up a tree that’s really fucking funny.” He threads his fingers through the horse’s black coat and it actually seems to relax.

“Are you doing some weird animal magic on him?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” He puts his arm around the horse’s neck, “It’s called being polite.”

“He belongs to the one of the hunters.”

“Oh calm down you big baby and get down here,” He says. “He can’t really hurt you without them, isn’t that right?” The horse neighs happily in response. “Oh my god you are so cool we are keeping you, Derek we’re keeping him.”

“We are not keeping him,” Derek says as he descends from the tree but the moment he sets foot onto the ground the horse starts neighing malevolently again. Stiles takes a step back as the horse starts clicking it’s hooves to the ground.

“Oh my god both of you,” Stiles steps in between them, “Calm the fuck down. I don’t know whether to laugh or smack one of you in the head and it is definitely too early for the latter.” Derek refuses to believe that Stiles isn’t doing _something_ to the horse because it calms down yet again after hearing Stiles speak. Hell, the bastard almost looks _bashful._

“Alright so you two are going to get along because I don’t want to kick either of you out because horses are so cool and Derek is somewhat lukewarm.” Stiles says mainly to the horse and Derek kind of wants to kill the thing now that he is being blatantly ignored.

“I won’t even argue,” Derek says, “Stiles if you’re ready let’s go, the town is close by.”

“Yeah in a bit, just trying to figure out what my new best bud is trying to tell me.” Stiles says.

“What?”

He gestures to the horse and it’s somewhat interpretive hoof clicking.

“He’s speaking in morse.” Stiles says.

“The horse is speaking morse.”

“Of course the horse is speaking morse.”

“Make another rhyme and I kill you.”

Stiles snickers, “Yeah, yeah. Well, if he was speaking morse, whatever he’s saying doesn’t really make any sense because he’s saying,” He pauses and listens to the clicking of the horse’s hooves and Derek swears that the horse is looking at him directly in the eyes. And now that he isn’t being chased up a tree, Derek feels like the horse looks familiar somehow, it’s like he’s seen those brown eyes from somewhere else before.

“He’s saying; remember.”

\---

Cora leans against one of the tables as Allison takes a seat beside Isaac. Cora looks at Derek and Scott who are both out cold against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

“What do you think they’re dreaming about,” She asks.

Allison smiles faintly, “Stiles probably made it something super weird.”

“Pokemon master journey,” Isaac says.

“The Hunger Games,” Lydia suggests.

“Disney fairytale,” Cora says as she chuckles at the idea of Derek surrounded by singing animals with a scowl plastered onto his face.

“I think they can handle all of that,” Allison says. “What was the last movie Stiles watched?”

“I’m pretty sure it was Tangled. Me and Scott watched it with him last night.” Isaac tells her and Cora’s theory gets one point.

Lydia lets out a snicker, “If he dreamed that up, he would cast himself as Rapunzel with Derek as Eugene because god knows that’s one love story he wants.”

“Who would Scott be?” Cora asks out of curiosity.

“Totally one of the animal sidekicks,” Isaac says. “Either the lizard or the horse.”

\---

It comes in one very concise stab of pain and white and information that hits him somewhere behind his eyes. He staggers back and he leans against the trunk of a tree while he forces air to go in and out of his lungs. Memories of his real life fill up his brain and sit side by side by the ‘memories’ he had before.

This isn’t real.

What’s real is that Stiles is dying. This is something Stiles made up in his head and he’s losing himself in his mind. He’s on a mission and he has to get Stiles out because this is a fucked up dream Stiles built. A dream that seems awfully familiar because of course.

Of course he isn't in a normal story. Of course Stiles doesn't dream like a normal person. Of fucking course Stiles had to dream up a Disney (?) induced fairytale nightmare where Derek is the prince (?) and Stiles is the princess (?) and in the face of this realization, Derek would have honestly preferred the zombie apocalypse dream.

In front of him, the horse is looking at him with _a look_ and holy shit.

“Scott?” He asks and the horse—Scott—nods his head, “Oh my fucking god are you serious.”

Scott sighs and he has every reason to, he’s certainly got the worse role.

“Derek? Horse?” Stiles calls from somewhere up ahead, “Did you guys kill each other?”

“No we’re fine, keep going we’ll catch up.” Derek shouts back as he turns his attention back to Scott.

“You’re a horse,” Derek says and Scott looks unimpressed. “Alright, you’re not going to be very helpful but the plan is still a go despite you being,” He makes a gesture at Scott’s entirety. “So now that we both remember, we just have to get Stiles to remember.” Scott nods. “But how are we going to do this with you as a horse.”

Scott tilts his head at Derek as a reply.

“What?” He asks and Scott just nudges him. “Me? Are you telling me I’m essentially on my own with getting him to remember?” Scott nods. “Scott, I can’t do that.” He says. “You’re closer with Stiles than I am, you know more about him and you’ve been friends with him longer. Me and Stiles might be friends but he won’t trust me in time.” 

Scott glares at him and starts pushing him forward through the woods, apparently disregarding what he just said. Derek figures that this is his way of saying “Do I look like I can do anything better? Stick to the plan and just get him to trust you” He sighs and starts walking.

“Scott, I know this dream is some sort of movie,” he says as he sees Stiles up ahead, walking with a jump in his step. “But I’ve never watched it, all I know is from the fake memories in my head, I don’t know how it ends or what to do and—”

“Hey dorks!” Stiles shouts, “We’re here.”

Derek looks up at the city in front of him, buildings made out of stone that tower high up, decorations strewn around, the sound of people and excitement, a city straight out of a fairytale. And at the edges of the sight, he sees things blurring and meshing together, he sees pixel static in his periphery. He’s spent about a whole day in this dream and it probably isn’t going to hold for much longer. He doesn’t have time to hesitate.

Clean slate, Derek remembers. None of what happened in the real world matters. What matters here is that right now, Stiles is a kid who is outside for the first time in eighteen years and Derek made him a promise and he’s going to keep it. He can prove that he cares.

“Derek are you okay?” Stiles asks, suddenly in front of him, his face riddled with concern.

“Yeah,” He says unconvincingly. He clears his throat and speaks clearer, “What are we going to do now?”

Stiles smiles and he grabs Derek’s hand, “We’re going to have fun that’s what.”

Derek finds himself smiling too and he doesn’t turn his head to hide it this time. Stiles just pulls him along into town. They walk around and they explore the city. Stiles soaks in all the excitement of the celebration and Derek mostly stares and probably grins dumbly. They hop from shop to shop and they hide from hunters that prowl the city. 

Derek is leaning against a wall next to Scott whilst he watches Stiles talk enthusiastically to a fruit vendor (who blurs at the edges like an old photograph, black and white staining what was once color, every time Stiles isn’t looking), when music starts playing and he brightens and meets Derek’s eyes. He rushes towards him and pulls him into a crowd and with a glint in his eyes he says,

“Let’s dance.”

“Oh no,” Derek pulls back slightly and Scott starts making a choking noise that sounds a bit like laughing. “No, no, no. I can’t, I mean, I don’t dance.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Unless the big bad wolf is too chicken to dance.” He tells him slyly and Derek takes another step back but Scott pushes him right into Stiles who links his arms with him. Stiles laughs as Derek turns his head to glare at Scott but he doesn’t protest.

He lets Stiles lead him into the crowd. He lets himself move with the music. He lets himself laugh and enjoy himself because he’s got a clean slate here. In this fake world, the mistakes he did in the real world can’t get to him. He realizes how Stiles’ real life is kind of crappy, he was a clueless kid who got pulled into all of the supernatural bullshit, so he figures that the least he could do is make Stiles happy now, at least here in this fairytale dream.

Derek accidentally steps on Stiles’ still bare foot and he yelps and falls backwards, and like the cliché this fake world is, Derek catches him with an arm around his waist just in time for the music to stop.

“Hello,” Stiles says and his heart is doing skips and flutters.

“Hey,” Derek says back as he pulls Stiles back up.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” Stiles points out, “They’ll be setting out the lanterns.”

“Yeah they will,” He replies and he racks his memory for anything about this goddamn movie. He’s never watched it but he must have at least seen glimpses of it somewhere. 

They start walking around in a comfortable silence with no apparent destination until they arrive at a dock, Derek’s eyes zero in on a lone boat tied to a post.

He walks towards it and he starts undoing the ropes as Stiles asks “What are you doing?”

“You wanted to see the lanterns, so I’m getting the best view possible.” He throws the ropes aside and steps into the boat, extending his hand for Stiles. “Well?”

Stiles smiles and takes his hand as he steps in too.

As he pushes the boat off the dock, Scott is left behind by the post looking incredibly smug for a horse. Derek rolls his eyes and he rows the boat into the water.

The sky is dark and speckled with stars until lanterns start rising up into the night sky, one by one lights start appearing and minutes later, it isn’t dark anymore. Stiles sits at the edge of the boat, looking up in awe, as Derek sits on the other side, looking at how the lights frame Stiles’ face. 

“Wow,” Stiles whispers. “They kind of look like stars huh?”

“Yeah, paper stars,” He says remembering blue pieces of rolled up paper.

“How poetic,” Stiles lets his hand dip into the water below and he sighs, “So that’s that huh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” He picks up a lantern floating nearby. “I’ve dreamed of seeing those lanterns for so long, and now I have. So, now what?” He blows the light of the lantern out.

Derek sits next to Stiles and he thinks about how Stiles is in real life, how every day for Stiles would somehow equate to danger, how once the latest problem has been solved there’s a silent “what happens next?” that’s in his mind, how Stiles had this tendency to think that he wasn’t as important as everybody else and that they would notice soon, how he would sometimes think that the answer to “what happens next?” was that his friends would leave him somehow. And he’s asking the same question now, waiting for the same answer. 

“I guess you’re just going to have to find another dream.” He says and the lantern’s light catches on fire again as Stiles’ spark leaps up and he smiles, blushing slightly.

He feels something wrong in the air and he looks up and sees that half the lanterns that littered the water around them have disappeared, he sees the sky growing into a black void instead of a dark blue dotted with stars and he remembers. The dream collapsing and he’s running out of time. He needs Stiles to trust him and he doesn’t have any more time for to get it.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?” Derek grabs his hands and the lantern floats up and away before fizzing out of existence.

“I need you to trust me on something.”

“Uh, alright. What is it?”

“This is a dream.” He says slowly and Stiles tilts his head in confusion. “Stiles you’re asleep in the animal clinic and we’re losing you, me and Scott are here to get you so I need you to trust me and to remember.”

Stiles starts pulling away, “What? What are you—”

“This isn’t real, Stiles. You got hit by a spell and you got trapped in your own head and the only way out is for you to trust me and to remember.”

“I don’t,” Stiles moves back and Derek lets go of his wrists, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Goddamnit Stiles!” He snaps and Stiles flinches away, “You are dying. This is some fucked up dream you made and the longer you stay in it, the faster you lose yourself.” He’s getting desperate and he keeps on going. “I know it’s nice here, I know that this fairytale can give you a happy ending which is so much better than most of the shit you have to put up with, but your friends are waiting for you out there.”

“Derek,” Stiles says and there isn’t an ounce of understanding in him.

It’s not going to work. He can see things phasing out into nothingness at the corner of his eyes and Stiles is looking at him with his eyebrows pulled up in concern like Derek’s crazy.

“Stiles, please.” Derek says, quieter, as he cups Stiles’ jaw. “I need you to remember, I need you to trust me, I need you—” The words get stuck in his throat and he stops.

The both of them are going to be gone soon and he knows that it’s stupid but Derek never got the chance to do this in real life so he thinks _fuck it_. Derek pulls his face forward and his lips meet Stiles’. 

Stiles' lips are soft and warm and everything else is chaste. It isn’t even much of a kiss, it’s more of just him pressing his lips against Stiles’. Derek is desperate, but he doesn't let any of that show, he tries to be gentle in any way he can because Stiles' heart is loud and racing and sporadic in his ears and Derek's afraid that he would pull back. Instead, Derek feels Stiles’ hands coming up to hold his wrists and he sighs. Derek pulls back just moments after and Stiles is looking at Derek like he’s trying to figure something out. 

“Stiles, you have to trust me.” Derek tries one last time as he feels void crawling along the edges of the boat.

“Derek,” Stiles looks at him.

The static roars loudly in his ears and everything doesn’t go black. Everything just stops being all at once.

“You came back?” Stiles says.

\--- 

He wakes up with a gasp. His back straightens from a sleep induced slouch and the back of his head hits the wall behind him. He tries to stand up but he fails and slinks back down onto the floor with his head throbbing and his vision spinning.

“Oh my god they’re all awake,” somebody says. 

“Derek?” somebody, Cora, says beside him. “You alright? You guys have been out for a few hours.” She grabs his arm and hefts him up into a standing position.

His vision adjusts to the light and he sees Scott and Stiles awake and disoriented along with everybody else in various states of relief. 

“Thank god,” Scott says staring at his hands. “I’m not a horse.”

“A horse?” Allison and Isaac ask at the same time.

Lydia is at Stiles’ side, scolding him for not noticing the witch or the spell, when he looks up and his eyes meet Derek’s.

“Lydia I’ve gotta,” He says as he hops off of the table and he staggers on his feet. “I’m fine I just need some air or something.” He tries to walk in a straight line to the exit but he teeters and leans against the doorway. “I’m uh,” He stutters and looks up at Derek, “Welcome back.” And with that he practically bolts out of the room.

Silence hangs heavy in the air until Scott breaks it with a loud and blunt, “Holy shit just follow him.”

And he does.

He rushes out of the room and out of the building into the parking lot. It’s raining, actually that seems like a generous term, it’s fucking _pouring_. The sky is dark and the lights aren’t helping but he sees Stiles leaning against the wall of the building with the hood of his hoodie over his head.

“Hey, thanks,” He says when Derek approaches him, “For getting me out of that deathtrap nightmare.”

“You’re welcome,” He replies. “How much do you remem—”

“All of it.” He interrupts and Stiles looks away. His hands are bunched up in his pockets and his heartbeat is erratic. “You kissed me.”

“Yes, I did.” 

“Can I just ask, why?” He turns and faces Derek. “It’s a stupid question, I know, but right now my mind is everywhere and you just pulled me out of a fucking Disney movie and I know nothing is ever going to happen between us but I’d really like to know why and,” He stops mid-sentence and takes a breath. “Was that you kissing fairytale me or real me? Or was it all just a means to an end or—”

Derek grabs one of Stiles’ wrists and pulls him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. A kiss in the rain, the ultimate cliché. Stiles backs up and his mouth gapes open as he tries to string together a sentence.

“That’s why,” Derek says and he lets himself smirk.

“Oh.” Stiles smiles. “Oh god you’re such a dork you brought up the _paper stars_ , I didn’t even think that you remembered that.”

“Surprise, I did.”

"So what does this make us?" Stiles asks. "Are we a thing now? Like a together thing? A more than friends together thing where there's kissing involved? Are you the Eugene Fitzherbert to my Rapunzel?"

"I didn't get that last one but the answer is yes, Stiles."

"Fuck yes."

They stand there for a while, leaning against the wall side by side not caring about the rain, until Stiles speaks again.

“Sorry for almost dying, and for making you endure my brain.” He tells Derek as he tries and fails to subtly inch closer to him, “That was probably shit to come back to.”

Derek laughs and Stiles hand brushes against his own “You should be apologizing to Scott, you casted him as the horse.”

“Yeah, he’s going to be pissed at that for a while.” He snickers. “I have to make it up to the both of you. We should have a party, one big welcoming sleepover party. With food and movies and no dying of any sort.”

“No Disney movies.” Derek says and Stiles rolls his eyes and their fingers link together.

“You big baby, it wasn’t that bad.” Derek raises an eyebrow, “Ugh, fine. Worst happily ever after _ever_.”

**Author's Note:**

> congratulations for getting to the end of a fic where they dont even make out 4 real omg
> 
> bonus: stiles ends up getting a cold from the rain. at the welcoming sleepover party they eventually end up watching tangled due to a majority of votes. stiles, derek, and scott watch the whole thing in varying magnitudes of horror. then for two weeks, scott is subjected to horse puns. the end.


End file.
